Confessions by Champagne
by April Ballad
Summary: In which Gilbert cries when he drinks and Ludwig can't even comprehend his brother's awesomeness. Pretty much plotless fluff with a side of giggles.


Confessions by Champagne

Rated T+ for foul language and references to sexual activities.

Warning:

No real Italy-bashing, but Germany and Italy's non-existent romantic relations are discussed frankly in this fic. My apologies to Gerita fans; Gerita is actually my OTP.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is © Hidekaz Himaruya. I don't own the series or the characters.

-/

CONFESSIONS BY CHAMPAGNE

Germany fell back against the soft sheets, heavy with exhaustion. Next to him, an equally spent Prussia flopped down gracelessly, snatching the blanket as he did so and burying his head underneath. They stayed like that, both quietly panting, for a few minutes before the absurdity of the situation made Germany open his mouth.

"What's wrong with me, Gilbert?"

Prussia's response was a mumbled 'hn?' as he snuggled his head deeper into the welcoming blankets and his brother's chest.

"One of my love interests is a harebrained moron with the common sense of a goldfish. And the other is my brother. Not to mention an egotistical jerk who has serious intimacy issues, delusions of grandeur, and the same capacity for responsible action as a four year old."

Prussia grudgingly popped his head out of the blankets to give Germany a murderous look. The effect was somewhat diminished by the fluffy feather in his hair.

"How come your rant about me is longer than the one about Feli, huh? Besides the fact that half that crap you just said made no sense and the other half's all lies."

Germany ignored him in favor of continuing his monologue. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say you have the same capacity for responsible action as four year olds. What an insult that would be to children everywhere."

"Oh har har, where do you get your humor from, Ludwig? Wait, don't tell me. It might take all the funny out of life." Prussia smacked him on the shoulder and crawled back beneath the sheets.

He stayed there for some 10 seconds before popping his head out again with a pout that was probably supposed to look threatening.

"And what the fuck do you mean, 'one of your love interests?' Don't tell me you and Feli get up to this type of nasty shit in your spare time. And here I thought all the grunts coming outta nowhere in this place was you breaking out in spontaneous work out sessions."

"That's disgusting, of course not." Germany crinkled his nose in a way that was freakily reminiscent of Austria. Prussia would have to remember to smack him for it later. "I don't grunt."

Prussia snorted. "Like hell you don't. You grunt like you snore. Sometimes I can't even tell the difference."

"I do not snore!" Germany retorted indignantly. "And besides, what about you? You're the one who's always making disturbing noises when you eat, or walk, or breathe-"

"I dun see you complaining about my disturbing noises when I'm fucking you into the mattress."

Germany made a 'pft' noise that totally qualified him as a hypocrite for making fun of Prussia just a second ago.

"Or the other way around." Prussia wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"If that was supposed to be seductive, I'm sorry to inform you that you fail at life."

Prussia smacked him again, hard enough to sting a little this time. "That's it, you're bottoming for the next month. We'll see how you feel about my awesome seduction skills when you're squirming like a bitch in heat against my five meters."

Germany scoffed and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'more like 5cm.' But otherwise, a comfortable silence had fallen between them. Silent minutes trickled by, and Germany closed his eyes, feeling the edges of blissful sleep coming upon him-

"Well fuck this shit, I can't sleep. I'm getting something to drink." Prussia flung the warm blanket hard enough to throw it off the bed. Germany's hands flew to his vital regions as he sprang up, shivering in the cold. The tick in his right eye told him that a headache was coming on.

"Gott, Gilbert. Can't you be a bit considerate of other people for once in your life?"

"What other people? All I see's here's the awesome me and a whiny bitch." Prussia's laughter carried through the house as he plodded towards the kitchen.

Germany's frown stayed on his face until Prussia padded back into the room, two glasses and a bottle of white wine in hand.

"I don't see how you can make fun of my sense of humor without getting a heart attack from being such a big fat hypocrite." Germany resisted the urge to cross his arms. Prussia was the childish one.

Prussia scoffed in a way that was creepily similar to himself. Germany resolved to smack him for it later.

"You talk too much." Prussia threw the glasses onto the bed, pulling the blankets up and around them with one hand as he held up the wine bottle with the other. He crawled forwards the few inches separating himself and his younger brother, until his chest was pressed against the broader one.

"Gilbert!" Germany sputtered and tried to shove the sex fiend away, only to earn himself a mocking chuckle and a hard nip to his earlobe.

"Didn't I just tell you you're bottoming for the next month?" Prussia pulled back with a smirk to examine Germany's flushed face. Germany gave him 'the look.'

"And stop making that face. The wind might blow the wrong way and make it stick like that. Do you really wanna go through life looking like you've got perpetual diarrhea?"

Germany tried harder to make Prussia shrivel up and die with the force of 'the look.' All Prussia did though was roll his eyes and lean in to press his lips against the side of Germany's mouth.

"What do you think you're doing? I'm trying to give you 'the look' here. The least you could do is shrivel up and die."

"You talk too much," Prussia mumbled as he continued leaving a trail of pecks against the hard lines on Germany's face.

"Big fat hypocrite."

"Who you calling 'fat?' This is perfection right here!" Prussia ran his hands down his own chest and ended suggestively at his waist. "You may feel free to grovel to your heart's content." He finished with a flourish, hands on hips and smirk on his face, as if expecting Germany to suddenly realize the error of his ways and fall forward with tears of gratitude in his eyes.

He got a smack to his chest instead. That hurt.

"Meanie." Prussia pouted and moved away, back to his own side of the bed. Grabbing the glasses, he tossed one to Germany, then pulled out the cork on the wine bottle with his teeth.

"You should be grateful you've got such an awesome big brother like me. I'm so generous." He filled both glasses with the transparent liquid.

"You'll probably finish the rest of that bottle before I'm through with the first glass. Then you'll steal that too, just for the heck of it."

"I wouldn't."

"You steal my beer all the time."

"I do not."

"You do it every time. It's why nobody drinks with you anymore. Now you just get drunk by yourself and end up crying all over my good carpet."

"I do not fucking cry when I'm drunk! I'm awesome when I'm drunk, like even more than when I'm sober, and that's saying something."

"The last time you got drunk you told me about how Russia liked to dress you up in schoolgirl uniforms. The time before that you cried about how our grandfather never hugged you. And the time before that you sobbed all over my government documents about how you thought Gilbird was going to leave you to go off and get married. Admit it, Gilbert, you're a weepy drunk and you should really lock yourself away from civilized society when you drink."

Prussia swirled the wine in his glass with a frown. Germany briefly wondered if he'd gone too far and had sent Prussia into one of his depressive episodes.

"I hated those schoolgirl uniforms."

Germany spat his drink all over himself. "Really? Is that why you keep one in the back closet where Feliciano won't find it, and bring it out when you're in a kinky mood?"

Prussia didn't answer, but he turned towards Germany with a serious look in his eyes. "Why does Feli come over so often anyway?"

Germany blinked. "I thought you liked it when he comes over. He always puts you in a good mood."

"He does. Yknow, with his cuteness and all. Then I remember he's here to visit you, and I get more depressed than before."

Germany wasn't sure how to reply to that comment. He'd never seen Prussia depressed after Italy's visits. The ex-nation was usually in such a good mood following those visits that he'd drink himself into a stupor and end up crying-

"Mein Gott, are you jealous of Feliciano?"

Prussia scoffed again. "Yeah right." He looked suddenly very uncomfortable under Germany's incredulous gaze. "At least you're finally calling me God and giving me the praise I deserve."

Germany knew his brother better than to take the bait. "Why would you be jealous of Feliciano?"

Prussia looked angry now. That was possibly a good thing, since he usually told the truth when he was angry.

"Why? I can't believe you even-you know what, that's not even it at all. You fucking moron. I'm not jealous of Feli, I'm jealous of you. Fuck, West. Where the hell can I get a cute, bouncing Italy of my own?"

"...Certainly not with Romano. The only bouncing he'll do is the stomping kind. With his foot, in your vital regions."

Prussia laughed. It was a harsh, painful sound.

"But that's not it at all, is it?"

The mood had grown somber all of a sudden. Prussia downed his glass in one huge gulp.

"Fuck, West. Why do you always have to go and make every situation as lame as you?"

"I thought that was what your 'awesomeness' was for. Balancing my lameness."

"Yeah, well, even my awesomeness only goes so far." Prussia ran a hand through his hair and refilled his glass. Germany had raised an eyebrow in mocking incredulity, but being the generous man that he always was, Prussia ignored it. "Sometimes that stick is so far up your ass that I have no idea how it's not poking out your damn mouth."

"I can assure you there's no stick up my ass, Gilbert. But I think you already made sure of that yourself just a moment ago."

Prussia laughed again. It was only a small laugh, closer to a chuckle or bark, but it sounded a lot less painful than the one before. He turned to Germany with a feral smirk. "So, I seem to remember our agreement about you spreading those legs for the next month."

"It wasn't an agreement, it was you being stupid."

Prussia pouted, then took a swig out of his glass. "You're no fun."

"We've established that. And you-" Germany poked Prussia in the chest with his forefinger. "-are good at changing the subject. Not good enough though. Now talk."

Prussia scrounged his face up in annoyance. "What the hell d'you want me to say? That I don't want him visiting you anymore? Don't want to see him hug you and kiss you every fucking time he sees you? That I'm tired of being second best, to a useless idiot no less? Is that what you wanna hear?"

"I'd rather hear the truth."

"Well you just did." Prussia turned away from Germany with irritation written all over his face. He took another huge swig, refilled his glass.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Prussia suddenly wished he hadn't set fire to the guest bed, even if it had been a great prank. He took another drink.

"Feliciano and I...aren't like that."

Prussia let out a loud, painful laugh. "Of course not."

"We aren't. I was just messing with you earlier with the whole 'love interest' thing. I told you, we don't-don't do...this kind of thing. Ever. He's just affectionate, overly so."

"Right, affectionate. Earth to West! He spends every UN meeting clinging to your arm or falling asleep on your shoulder. I don't see him doing that to anyone else." He finished his glass and poured himself another.

Germany watched his glass intently as if the answer to life's mysteries were swirling around inside. He took a sip. "How do you know about that anyway?"

Prussia blinked. "I hear things."

"I'm sure you do, but like I've told you before, they're just voices in your head, ignore them and they'll go away."

"Har har, the ingenuity of your wit astounds me. Whatever brilliant remark will you honor me with next?"

"Since when has your vocabulary included such big words?"

"HAR HAR, and you never fucking cease to amaze, West." Prussia downed his glass. He went to pour a new one, paused, then decided to throw his sissy glass on the floor and drink straight from the bottle. Like a real man.

"Now I ask again: how do you know what goes on during UN meetings?"

Prussia eyed him with suspicion. He threw his head back and took a huge gulp. "Don't tell nobody, or you'll blow my cover, k?" He leaned in and whispered, even though no one else could possibly be in the house at this hour. Germany decided to humor him. His brother's voice had begun to take on the familiar slur.

"There's this really big potted plant, in the corner of the room."

"You hide inside the pot?"

"Wha? Naw. It's just a really nice plant." Prussia leaned away again, taking another drink. The bottle was nearly empty by now. Germany waited for him to continue, but all he did was sit there with a stupid grin on his face.

"And?"

"Huh?"

"And how does the plant relate to you sneaking into UN meetings?"

"What the hell are you? Stupid? How the fuck is a plant suppose to be related to me sneaking into UN meetings?"

Germany's eye twitched. He was really not in the mood for Prussia's stupidity right now. "So then how do you sneak into UN meetings?"

"Well I used to think I'd hide inside that pot."

Germany resisted the urge to strangle his brother. He was sure if he committed fratricide, someone somewhere would make a Nazi joke out of it. He really didn't need that right now.

"But then Hungary parked her huge ass in front of it, and like hell I was gonna squat there for hours looking at that ugly fucker. That'd be almost as bad as looking at her face." He took another drink, grimacing at the mental image that idea conjured up.

"And so...?"

"And so I was like, well fuck this shit. Not only's this the worst view in New York, you probably can't even hear shit with that in the way."

"And so...?"

"So wha?" Prussia upturned the bottle over his open mouth. The last trickle flowed onto his waiting tongue.

"So how do you sneak into UN meetings?"

"Whaa? You talking crazy shit. What you smoking West?"

Germany sighed. The short window of both coherence and honesty between his brother's states of being sober and drunk had just slammed shut in his face. He'd get no more out of Prussia now.

"Just go to sleep, Gilbert."

"Hey! You stole my beer. Crazy mother-" Prussia snatched the half finished glass out of Germany's hand and gulped it down in one swallow. "Damn that's nasty beer. Must be-be a-made in America. Pussies."

Prussia threw the offending glass on the floor. He regarded Germany with a cross-eyed expression, then flung himself at the shocked nation.

"Fuck you West! You never give a-give a-shat bout my problems. Selpish pucker!"

Germany wisely chose to sit back and let his brother finish his drunken tirade. Prussia's fists pounded repeatedly into his chest and shoulder, but they didn't really hurt, considering they were punctuated regularly by hiccoughs and sobs.

"You gonna leave me, huh? Gonna-gonna go fucking get hitched-Italian slut. Damn, fucking cute, stupid-you're such a fucking sleaze, West! You-well see if I care. I don't fucking-you and Gilbird both, you can suck my-fuck you!"

Germany sighed. He threw an arm around Prussia and turned his face away, feeling the beginnings of a blush rising in his cheeks. "No, Gilbert, I'm not leaving."

"You-you whaa?" Prussia looked up with such a dumbfounded expression that Germany bit his tongue to stifle a laugh.

"I said I'm not leaving. Wouldn't want you to PMS all over yourself with these depressive episodes."

It took half an hour of consoling and one-sided screaming matches before Prussia entered the drowsy phase of his drunkenness. Germany let Prussia lie with his head against his shoulder, and pulled the blankets tighter around them both. Prussia was mumbling incoherently, and Germany occasionally caught words like 'wurst' and 'chickens' and 'so awesome.'

Then Prussia shifted and ended up sprawled across Germany's lap. That was when Germany noticed an ugly scratch on Prussia's back that he'd missed before. It was purpley and seemed to be pulsating a bit.

"Where'd you get this scratch from?" He gingerly poked the skin around the wound.

"UN vent...cold. Not nice."

"I think it's infected."

Prussia mumbled something, then snuggled closer to the warm body awkwardly beneath him. "Cold..."

Germany sighed again. Well that solved one mystery. Still, they should probably get that scratch looked at. Maybe later.

"I know you probably won't remember this in the morning, Gilbert. But..." Germany felt himself starting to color. He shifted uncomfortably, hyper aware of both their nakedness under the sheets. "But...Feliciano and I are just friends. And you...you and I...we're not..."

Germany inhaled deeply. This was out of his depth; usually he and Prussia just had freaky sex and left it at that, no words of affection or terms of endearment exchanged except to piss each other off. "We're not just friends. You're my brother, and...and...ahem. I, uh..."

Prussia shifted again onto Germany's side, and clung gently to his neck. His breath was hot against Germany's skin, and despite their difference in stature, Germany oddly felt very childish and foolish again. Prussia tucked his head under Germany's chin and pressed his lips lightly to Germany's neck.

"Ich liebe dich, bruder." Germany placed a chaste kiss onto Prussia's temple before turning away. Prussia didn't respond, his breathing even with the signs of sleep. It might've just been his imagination, Germany thought as he too began to grow drowsy, but it'd almost felt as if Prussia's lips against his neck had been quirked up in a smile.

/END...?/

"Aarghh will you fucking cut that out?" Prussia moaned with his head stuffed beneath a pillow, as Germany continued pushing the vacuum cleaner.

"Most definitely not. This is your punishment for drinking yourself stupid last night. Deal with it."

Prussia let out a frustrated half-wail half-groan as he willed the mattress to suck him up and dump him somewhere quieter. "Seriously, West. Can't you go be a self-righteous dick somewhere else? I'm in pain here! You should be in a maid outfit, making me soup and shit."

Germany scoffed. "Not my problem." Nevertheless he turned the machine off. But only because it was starting to give him a headache too.

"Haha you do love me."

Germany scoffed again, harshly enough to send spit flying. His OCD immediately kicked in and he wiped it off the floor with a frown. "Ja, keep dreaming, Gilbert."

"Oh really? That's not what you said last night."

And even though Germany could only see the tips of Prussia's white-blond hair poking through the sheets, he could just hear the huge smirk on his face.

"What are you talking about? Are you hearing voices again, Gilbert? Maybe we should get you back on your medication."

Prussia flipped over onto his back and pushed up onto his elbows, huge smirk in place. He cupped his hands together and said in a high-pitched voice, "Oh bruder, ich liebe dich, bruder, ich liebe dich sooo sehhrrr~!"

Germany immediately turned a flaming red as Prussia alternated between laughing deliriously and holding his head in pain.

"I-what are you-how the-shut up, Gilbert! I did not say-" Germany marched over to the bed and, hangover or no, smacked Prussia on the back of the head.

"OW! FUCK!" Prussia stopped laughing and started rolling around in pain, holding his throbbing skull. "Fucking ungrateful bitch! I spend centuries laboring over a hot stove for you, and what the fuck do I get in my old age? Fuuuucckkk-"

"Shut up, Gilbert. Don't try to guilt-trip me with your amazing parenting skills. First of all, they didn't even have stoves back then. Second, I only remember making dinner for myself while you drank yourself unconscious on the couch." Germany sat down stiffly and crossed his arms, ignoring the tiny tingle of guilt prickling him. It was tiny. Really.

Prussia gave one last exaggerated moan and fell back against the pillow, staring up at his brother. Despite Germany's harsh words, there was still a blush stealing across his cheeks, and his eyes spoke the apology his mouth stubbornly refused to give. Prussia felt himself smirking again.

"I am such a genius. I always knew you were head over heels in love with me." He raised a hand and stroked Germany's leg. He could feel the laughter bubbling out of him through the throbbing pain in his head.

"What are you talking about? I seem to remember you sobbing for an hour about how unloved you were and how cruel I was for cheating on you with that 'Italian slut.'"

"All part of the act, West. To get you to finally fess up your secret feelings for me."

"Now you're just delusional," Germany dismissed, but he didn't sound as sure as before.

"Oh really." Prussia's hand slid up to stroke Germany's thigh, brushing tantalizingly against his crotch.

"So this hangover is all just an act?" Germany's hand twitched as he prepared to smack Prussia upside the head.

"Hmm. Nope, sadly this fucking headache is real." Those talented, slender fingers found purchase against the buckle of Germany's belt, pulling lightly with sinful promise. "Totally worth it though, to make you so embarrassed. You of all people should know it'd take more than one wussy bottle to make the awesome me that drunk."

Germany mentally slapped himself. It had really been too long since he'd observed Prussia's drinking behavior first-hand. Nowadays he just got stuck cleaning up the mess afterwards.

"Well thanks, Gilbert. Glad to know you derive such happiness from my humiliation." Germany roughly pushed Prussia's hand off of his lap and stood up, feeling oddly awkward and embarrassed, as if he'd just been rejected somehow. It didn't really make sense, but then, nothing with Prussia ever did.

"Hey." Prussia reached out and grabbed Germany's retreating wrist. "You know I didn't mean it like that, yeah?"

Germany glanced down, unconvinced.

"Cause, you know. You'd never say it if you didn't think I was insecure and totally smashed. But-but it wasn't a lie, the part about me not wanting to-to see him. Like that. With you."

Germany quirked an eyebrow. "Is this your emotionally-stunted way of apologizing to me?"

"Well it's better than your dumbass apology, so shut up. I'm not done."

Germany rolled his eyes, but sat down again anyway.

"Just...just so you know. I do too, okay?"

Germany blinked. "What?"

"Don't make me spell it out for you, West, I know you're not that fucking stupid. Now stop being an insensitive ass and go make your awesome brother some soup."

Germany stood up, feeling a strange mixture of confusion, giddiness and anxiety.

"Hey Gilbert."

"Wha?"

"Do you really hate those schoolgirl uniforms?"

Prussia kicked him in the ass. "Dumbass." There was a pause as he stared resolutely at an empty spot on the wall. Finally, he mumbled, "I only wear those cause it turns you on."

Germany laughed, and leant down to give his brother a light kiss on the temple. The blush looked good against Prussia's pale skin. "I'm still not agreeing to bottom for the next month, but just for that, Gilbert, I'll let you ride tonight."

Germany didn't even mind the smack that followed.

/END!/

Translations:

Ich liebe dich (so sehr): I love you (so much)

Bruder: brother

Gott: God

This is my 3rd and possibly last fanfic. I wrote all 3 on my iPod Touch within a few days' time while on vacation and Internet-less. Reviews are much appreciated!


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